


Pull Over!

by elliotwritesgarbage



Series: sickfics [10]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Emetophilia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Motion Sickness, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliotwritesgarbage/pseuds/elliotwritesgarbage
Summary: Tumblr ask:Do u write for yuri on ice? If you do, can i have some carsick yurio trying his best not to puke (and not announcing that he feels sick to the driver - Viktor) but ends up throwing up all over himself?





	Pull Over!

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr April 2017.
> 
> (Original notes)  
> This one was so much fun! It didn’t turn out exactly as I wanted it to, but whatever! I hope this was what you had in mind.

Travel didn’t seem to agree with Yuri, no matter the method. All except Otabek’s motorcycle made him violently ill. His first time on a plane he, and everyone else on the steel tube of death, had been unpleasantly surprised by how it had affected his stomach. He’d spent the whole four hours wedged between Victor and his coach, with his nose buried in an airsickness bag, and Yakov begrudgingly rubbing his back.

Car travel was exponentially worse. It wasn’t that Victor was a bad driver - it was just that at the moment Yuri would prefer the over-cautious and slow-moving driving of his fiancée. After all, how often had Victor driven in Japan? It was likely he was still learning, and road-tripping across Japan in order to see some stupid town that supposedly held a lot of history wasn’t on a list of things Yuri wanted to do. He lived in Russia, for christ sake, he could witness history just by stepping out his front door. Victor’s driving, or maybe it was the two in the front seat making kiss faces at each other, had made Yurio unbelievably uncomfortable. Somehow, he felt entirely too hot in an air conditioned car. His skin was prickling, especially around his neck, and his head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton balls. Car travel had a habit of making him dizzy, making the world zip by at even more dizzying speeds. He wanted to put his head on the window, but knew that the bumps in the road would only give him a headache.

Why hadn’t they gone by train? He couldn’t remember where exactly they were going, but surely it was quicker to go by train. It wasn’t as though he didn’t get trainsick too, but at least there were usually washrooms on trains to get sick in.

‘‘Ugh, Victor,’’ Yuri groaned from the backseat. His stomach was rolling. ‘‘Can we pull over?’’

‘‘Did you take an anti-nauseant?’’ Victor was as unapologetic as ever. Although, no matter how absent minded he was, he wasn’t a sadist. He cut the music down.

Yuri nodded, and then realized Victor was (hopefully) watching the road, so he hesitantly opened his mouth and uttered a ‘yes’. He had been sick in front of them enough that the embarrassment had died down, leading to less yelling, and a needier Yuri. Around those he was comfortable with, he really was quite whiney. His grandfather could attest to this. Yuri’s stomach rolled again after a bend in the road. He tried to lean his head against the back of Yuuri’s seat, but bending forward did nothing for his stomach so he sat back again. 

‘‘I feel like shit. Pull over.’’ Victor sighed dramatically. They were hardly an hour into the ride, and no one felt like stopping every half hour so Yuri could throw up on the side of the road.

Yuri weighed his options. This was a new car, just bought by Victor. How he had the money after taking the season off, Yuri had no idea, but decided not to question it. He may be able to puke out the window, but that would be humiliating. In all honesty, he might rather puke on the leather interior. At least then he could rub it in Victor’s face that they should have pulled over.

Another bump, and Yuri groaned loudly. Yuuri turned to face him as best he could in the sports car.

‘‘Uh, Victor, I think we should pull over. He’s not looking too good.’’

Yuri wanted to shout, ‘‘Neither are you!’’ but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a harsh gag, and a weak stream of vomit. It spilled into his lap with a sickening splash. It quickly soaked through his leggings. In the front seat, Victor swore, and began looking for a place to pull over. Yuri’s throat tightened against another gag, and this time, much thicker vomit rushed past his lips. His half-digested breakfast landed in his lap, too hot and grossly thick. Hiss stomach revolted against the pile in his lap, and he leaned back, trying not to look at it, only succeeding in spreading the mess to his tiger print shirt.

Victor stopped the car, pulling to the side of the road and eagerly jumping out of the putrid air in the car. Yuuri unbuckled himself and turned around properly. He sighed sadly at the sight of his competitor. The poor boy was sat in a puddle of his own sick where it had spilled between his slim thighs. His pale face was caked with sweat, and darkly coloured vomit still clinging to his lips. Victor opened the door on Yuri’s side, and assessed the situation.

‘‘Do you feel better?’’ Victor asked. ‘‘After puking, I mean.’’

Yuri wanted to hit him. How could he possibly feel better when he was covered in his own vomit?

‘‘No! I feel like shit! Same as the last time I said it.’’ Talking hurt his throat. He didn’t realize how much the vomiting spell had burned his esophagus. ‘‘I want to change.’’

Their suitcases were fully packed in the trunk of the car. Yuri couldn’t wait to change his pants. The vomit had gotten cold already, and the breeze from the open door was making him shiver. He wanted to get cleaned up, even a gas station bathroom would suffice. Looking down at the mess in his lap, he wanted to be sick again.

‘‘Yeah,’’ Yuuri agreed. ‘‘Let’s get you cleaned up.’’


End file.
